He just happened to be irresistible to young, usually straight men, who would pretend to be asleep as part of a sexual fantasy in which Sinaga would penetrate them on camera, sometimes for hours on end. But Goddard reluctantly ruled that he should be allowed to see the evidence in order to mount what seemed to be a hopeless defence: that he wasn’t a sexual predator, but a harmless deviant. The prosecution tried to persuade the judge, Suzanne Goddard QC, that Sinaga didn’t need to see the films he had recorded on two iPhones, one perched on a dresser for long shots and another handheld for closeups. He would cock his head to one side, as if studying a nature documentary, as he watched videos of himself raping dozens of men who had made the mistake of going back to his flat after a drunken night out. The Guardian was present at three out of Sinaga’s four trials, and Sinaga often seemed to be enjoying himself.
